


Numen Elen

by armada27



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3435662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armada27/pseuds/armada27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tricky romance between Tauriel and Thranduil, starting with what Tauriel did after bofa. Includes both points of view!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Balin's Request

**Author's Note:**

> A little rough, I know. It's almost a prequel to the real story, just so you guys can have the scene set. Hope you enjoy, and please review if you have time:)

Days she stood by his tomb, not moving, never speaking, nor eating. She was aware however, of the dwarves surrounding her, and paying their individual respects. Although a fallen king's tomb is always in the center, it is Fili, the next in line, whose tomb resides in the middle, so that he might be closer with his brother. Tauriel gained what little comfort she could from the arrangement. 

_It is what he would have wanted, to be next to his brother_. She knew they belonged together, Fili and Kili. _Such close brothers._

 Still, Tauriel mourned Kili; mourned his promises, his stories and his hopes. All of it was lost, everything that could have happened or come to be, simply gone, leaving nothing but pain and grief in its wake. She knew she couldn’t stand by his tomb forever waiting to fade away and join him, but it was so difficult to move, let alone think of a reason to move.

  _Perhaps in my passing we might meet again. Not all races can be separated..._ Tauriel thought of the halfones, mentioned in years past. Not hobbits, but child to both elf and mortal _. A boy could not be separated in his death from both parents, surely?_ Though the question bothered her somewhat, such thoughts passed from Tauriel's mind, and the memory of Kili filled its place.

Time passed, days, weeks, perhaps even months, but the dwarves never disturbed her, just as Tauriel never moved from Kili's tomb. She must have every single detail memorized by now; the dark stone which shone, even with the grayest sky, encrusted with diamond veins on the sides, reaching toward the middle. The middle itself was a sleeker stone, smooth and cool. Carved into it in Dwarvish, then filled with emerald, was Kili's name, and what looked to be a small inscription about his even smaller life. Fili's tomb was the same, with veins of diamond just climbing atop the black stone, and rich green filling his name. 

_Very fitting_. Tauriel believed them to be appropriate, as both brothers had worn brown and green to camouflage them on their quest, and she knew it was not only the dwarves who had come to associate Kili and Fili with those colours, but Gandalf too. He had simply smiled sadly upon seeing the beautiful stone which encased their bodies, only speaking to say that both brothers would have liked the tombs, particularly because of what emerald represented to dwarves. Tauriel couldn't remember what it represented, but could see the contrast in Thorin's tomb, which had a soft gold for his name and inscription instead, showing his past kingly status.

* * *

 As the weeks passed, different dwarves came to see their fallen brothers. Tauriel even began to recognize some of the sad clansmen, who again, never bothered her, and when they did glance upon her, looked accepting. They knew of Kili, and his incredible fondness for the fiery headed she-elf. 

Heavy footsteps echoed around the cavernous hall, as they usually did when clansmen came to grieve. However, there was something off about these footsteps. Instead of walking towards the tombs, the footsteps stopped at the mouth of the door causing Tauriel to turn around in curiosity.

 It was the older dwarf, Balin, standing watching her. He hadn't come to mourn, as she had first thought. A few seconds of silence went by in surprise. 

"Tauriel" he said quietly, "Might I speak with you?"

She nodded, just enough for the dwarf to make out.

 "Apologies for disturbing you, but we are in need of your help."

"Is it time to move the tombs to their burial placements? I’d be happy to assist" She replied, raising a delicate eyebrow.

"No my dear. It is time to move the tombs, yes - all clans have now visited. But we have enough strength to move them, what with Dwalin and Bofur. However, your king and his elven party left before we might come to terms with peace."

Interjecting, Tauriel's tone was nervous, "I don't see how I come into this, you may not know, but I cannot return to the king's residence."

"Yes,” he said “We had heard about that. Yet we have also heard you are, or rather, were, the captain of the King's guard?"

"Yes," She replied in turn.

"Which means you worked closely with him, and know Mirkwood, itself, very well?"

"Well of course, but-"

"Forgive me" Balin smiled softly, "I do not mean to interrupt, but we need someone we can trust to deliver to the king. Seeing the way you and Kili bonded...."  
 He was quiet for a pause, reigning in his emotions. He had reason to believe emotion wasn't the way to go when trying to deal with an elf.  
"Anyway, we trust you. We have two pieces of parchment, with peace treaties on them, both for Thranduil to sign. He can keep one of course, but the reason we need you is for something far more valuable."

Balin turned to leave, and Tauriel knew it was an inexplicit sign to follow. Striding behind the old, and surprisingly agile dwarf, Tauriel marveled at the large pathways and statues decorating Erebor. She had not looked around before, seeing no reason to, but clearly she had wasted an opportunity. Gold, silver, grey stone, ruby, it was everywhere. The sun filtered through the outer structure into the passage ways, lighting the gems up. Yet it wasn't too much. The riches, though many, were dispersed thinly.  Erebor was certainly not gaudy, no, it was magnificent.

 Tauriel followed Balin up and up into the northern most parts of the mountain, where the dwarves made home. The halls turned to rooms, and passages to hallways, all the more intimate.

Marching into a barely furnished room, the white haired dwarf looked north.  Straight ahead, there was a large open archway cut into the mountain stone, acting as a window. Despite the view being stunning, it was not the most stunning thing in the room. On the desk, right in front of the archway, sat a deep mahogany box with its lid open.

* * *

At dawn the next morning, the she-elf was on her way. Balin had given her a cloth sack to carry the parchment and box in on her back, but instead, she carried the box in her hands. If anything was to happen to the necklace inside, Tauriel would never forgive herself. After all, it was key to peace.

Rippling slightly in the breeze, she looked out to the lake. It was a bare lake, the whole of Laketown was submerged because of Smaug’s fire, but it was still beautiful to her as it reflected the colourless sky, making it seem mirror like.

 Tauriel considered borrowing a boat from Bard, but really, she knew that wasn’t the answer, nor was building a raft. She had to get across the river somehow though, didn’t she? Having very little idea of how she was going to sneak by the guards unnoticed and deliver everything the dwarves had given her, to bring to her king, Tauriel stopped to think.

_It would mean death to be seen by any elf, no matter how lowly._ All it would take is a report to the new Captain, and they would hunt her down if she entered king Thranduil’s halls after banishment, and was seen.

That left only one option. Turning gracefully, Tauriel began to run west.

 


	2. I vakha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, sorry it took so long to upload! I've had some pretty bad news this week, but will try to update regularly. Sorry if this chapter is a bit rough as it is my first ff, but please tell me what you think, thanks!

She made sure to run extra fast. The sooner it was done, the sooner she could begin to think about what to do next. Going so fast filled her with adrenaline, something she hadn’t felt since the battle. Tauriel had felt little, aside from stabbing grief since battle, and now experiencing adrenaline felt almost… foreign. It caused her to notice everything, notice the trees with leaves so lush, and the bluebells, turning the floor into a carpet of cobalt. As she journeyed further, the trees grew older. Tauriel could feel the energy pulsating from the inner layers of bark. She could have guessed most of the trees were near enough a millennia in age, without the gnarled roots spreading freely, which would have easily tripped a young elfling travelling at her speed. The fauna heightened her senses, and gave her a new energy, akin to life itself.

_Life.  
_ Something she very much needed to seek, and be a part of once more.

Slowing to a trot, Tauriel surveyed her surroundings. The trees were healthier here, and there was no spider sickness to be seen.

She was getting closer.

 

 

Thranduil had always been a cautious king, never sending out more of the guard than necessary to kill spiders too close to his borders. _Yet_ , Tauriel thought, _there have always been spiders near the west, always. King Thranduil would not have sent forces out so close after battle, surely?_  Even the air smelled purer here, so something must have occurred. _It is a sign perhaps. But for good or ill? This journey has been easy, far too easy._

She continued to run, but slowed down when the pathway became precisely that; well-trodden and obvious. Roots from trees stayed clear of the dirt brown path, looking as if it had been recently used. _But by whom?_

Tutting quietly, she chastised herself, once again. _  
So many ‘buts’ Tauriel. Get on with it. You’re six, almost seven hundred years old, and curiosity has never landed you in a welcome place._

So getting on with it is what she did. The path continued to wind for quite some time. So long in fact, day turned to dusk, which turned to night _. Now would be the best time to get there, and execute it... Of course it’ll work, and of course the route will be the same... Everything will be fine. I can only be spotted by one, and that **won’t** happen._

Tauriel knew her attempts at reassurance were, well, questionable. It is one thing to be nervous, and entirely another to let that nervousness, that fear, stop her from doing what she needed to do.

Absolutely too soon, she arrived. She must have stood for a solid three minutes at least. It was beautiful.

The largest tree in the forest stood; imposing, grand, magnificent, and altogether captivating. No elf nor any race knew how long it had been there, but knew only that the rest of the ancient forest must have grown around it, centuries, if not many millennia later. Stories had been told of its power and unearthly qualities. The stories however, faded, and circled within only the elvish realms and dwellings, for only elves could get as close as Tauriel was. Her body, her senses, her everything felt aflame. It was life itself, and as she got closer, she could hear the whispers of a million different voices speaking in different tongue. The smells were foreign, the sounds were enthralling, and the sight was simply… breath-taking. All of the things she was experiencing right now, that is why the tree was, and always has been, dangerous.

Tonight, the bark was ebony, with lines of blue white starlight travelling up and up, to the tip of every leaf and every vein, illuminating the entire thing. Whispers seemed to stir at the bottom, where most colour could be seen, and these whispers where enchanting. They pulsed crimson, teal and purple, colours that did not yet have names, but they all faded into an immense bright starlight eventually, to join their brothers and sister at the tip of the tree. In the summer, the veins had sometimes been green or gold instead of starlight, if any elf had been able to get close enough to see – but the bark too, seemed to change colour to white, or even maroon depending on something Tauriel hadn’t quite figured out yet. “i' vakha”, it was called, _the watcher_. Despite looking like it was made from wood and leaf, I vakha had an unnatural presence, one that watched, one that could either fill your body with life, or fill you with anguish. Both, Tauriel had learned, you needed to overcome.

Tonight, her body welcomed life instead of anguish, but too much life, and she wouldn’t cope. She focused on her first memory of Mirkwood and encountering the king.

_The orcs had attacked her settlement, and only she, a small little 8 year old, had escaped. She remembered running through the forest, knowing somewhere, a great city with an even greater king was built. Ada and nana had told her to run, run west, and that they would find her when the orcs were gone. Tauriel had run through the night, and could run no longer. It was lonely, she realised, and scary. Were there other orcs around? She was lonely, yes, but was she alone? Eventually the thoughts over powered her body, making her shake and whimper with fright. Ahead however, there was a faint glow, greyish, almost. She remembered falling asleep, snivelling, and being woken by a quiet deep voice._

_“What is your name,” he said, commanding, patient. He had long silver hair and icy blue eyes. Even an elfling such as her in a sleepy haze, could see he was beautiful. But more than that, he was important. Royal._

_“Where is nana?” She asked, her voice barely making a sound, and cracking on the last word. “She said she would come, and ada. They both did.”_

_The elf said nothing, scrutinizing her meaning, so she turned away, and looked at what she had been sleeping under for the night._

_It was stunning, so large and pretty! Tauriel had never seen a tree so big – she couldn’t help but gasp. Ada and nana were sure to find her here, how could they miss it?_

_But they never did find her, and they never did return._

Returning to the present, Tauriel sighed. All feeling of life was gone, and she felt normal. Like the first time she had been near I vakha, and felt nothing, aside from the worry of her parents not finding her. She had wondered, for the past six hundred and ninety four years why, exactly, had she felt nothing? Was it just she who had once felt nothing, and could overcome vakha’s power?

Smiling slightly, she remembered, “ _no.”_ Although Tauriel had never actually asked the king whether he felt anything she often used to suppose when she was younger, that no, he couldn’t.

Banishing such thoughts, she began to climb. It was a challenging climb really, but an enjoyable one. The bark changed colour whenever her skin made contact, producing lovely hues of starlight. She wasn’t worried, no one would see her. The king’s personal gardens had been built to entwine with the top of I vakha, creating a fortress of striking protection. All that was left to do now was wait, and she would do so, in his personal gardens…

Thranduil’s gardens had always been her favourite place, since she was a young elleth. The flowers were abundant, with rich velvety orange, red, yellow, purple and blue in the day, and illuminated colours at night. Her favourite part however, was the large pond which had a portion hidden under vakha’s branches. She had been coming here all her life, and she was pretty sure King Thranduil knew, but Legolas was right, he **had** favoured her, and allowed her to do many things other elves were not allowed. As she grew older, and learnt to deal with her grief, Tauriel stopped visiting so much, and although she missed the gardens desperately, she was wise enough to understand respect and boundaries.

* * *

 

Tauriel knew that Thranduil was most likely to visit the gardens at night, but where she was allowed her to look up to her king’s balcony, which had small, intricate steps leading down to the gardens. If he decided to come down, then she could easily hide in vahka, and even if he didn’t, she would hopefully be able to make out the shadows when the sun had risen, of the elven king leaving his bedchambers.

Seven hours later, he left, after what had probably been a refreshing night, much unlike the one Tauriel had. She climbed the stairs, careful not to make a sound despite there being no one to hear her, and placed the box and parchment she had carried so protectively, down.

_Maybe I could journey back the way I came, and follow the west star. It would take me all the way back to Glayfna, and maybe even a new home._

In all her life, Tauriel had never ventured back to her first home, thinking it would be too painful to see the ruins, but where else could she go? The village used to be next to a river, and the land was fertile.

_It would be a good place to go, at least for a while, and maybe begin to recover. When the time comes, I could journey to Rivendell, and see if there is a place for me._ Her mouth dipped at the corners slightly – it would be hard to go back, to start again and live on her own. _What will I do? Surviving for eternity is not the way to be. An elf needs some sort of purpose, or at least, a reason to survive._

Finding no alternative, however, she accepted her plan. The king’s gardens were a good place to decide really. It was so luscious and expansive, plenty of supplies could be found. Small weed-like plants grew near the pond, which were excellent for cuts and stopped them festering. Otherwise, at least two bushes grew “onto vasa,” producing berries so powerful, elves felt full for days.

_At least I won’t be hungry_.  
She sighed as she began to pick berries, putting them in her cloth sack.  

 

* * *

 

Today had been a difficult day, _oh yes._

_Ive yet to find a suitable date for the remembrance feast, and Narvontik continues to pester me with his council summons._ Thranduil glared at the stone floor as he strode along to his living quarters. There was someone behind him, trying to find him, but if they caught up, they would see his rush, and not dare interrupt.

 A large oaken arched door illuminated by fire cradles came into view as Thranduil rounded the corner. _So close._ The guard stationed outside nodded to his king, and moved to allow him in. Closing the door quietly, Thranduil thought to himself about how slamming the door would have once been a satisfying display of anger, but gone were the days of his youth. Besides, it would not befit a king to do such immature things.  Instead, he would find the most expensive dorwinion and hope the drink would stay his anger, as it usually did. Of late, he had been even more unpredictable and prone to fits of rage than usual. He blamed the war and losses. Searching around his richly coloured entrance, he spied the perfect bottle. It was hidden beneath his desk, one of the only furnishings in the room. It was a business room, therefor didn’t require personal touch, but the desk and bookshelves were dark, expensive and masculine, reflecting Thranduil himself.  
  
He growled under his breath as the thought of the dead wondered back into his mind once again.  
 _A good king would not lose 137 of his army. Nor put his soldiers in a situation to do so, over a necklace, of all things._ Burying his frustration and guilt once more, Thranduil drank deeply, relaxing as the red liquid rushed down his throat and to his head. _Enough work has been done this day._ One night off wouldn’t hurt, would it? _Of course not_ , he decided.

Entering his bedchambers, the white haired elf froze. The balcony doors were open. He had closed them, not two nights past… _No one can get up here, aside from me, the guard would not have, surely?_ He turned impossibly quick to face the large oaken door. If this was an attack, the attacker would have performed directly, during Thranduil’s state of shock. None could beat him now he was alert.

Yet no one came from the shaded corners, or in fact, the balcony itself, so he approached it. On the floor sat a box, looked to be made of mahogany, and some parchment.

He read over, for long minutes, smiling slightly at the dwarves’ agreement. It was a fine agreement, there was no doubt, and a signature, signed by Balin himself. _At least one good thing has come from this day!_ Although not a massive worry to Thranduil, he did not like the idea of dwarves for enemies, especially now so many elvish lives had been lost. _Lost because of him._

He knew taking the letters to the council straight away was the right thing to do, but the box still lay remarkably still, unlike Thranduil’s heart which to beat increasingly fast.

Finding no more patience, he threw down the letters, and snatched up the box.

His voice cracked slightly at the sight. The gems of Lasgalen. For at least twenty minutes, Thranduil stood stock still, not daring to move in case the gems vanished. He even began to feel something, akin to happiness, but bittersweet at the same time. Shining beautifully in the setting sun, the gems looked more regal and beautiful than he had ever imagined they could. How he wished Verya was here to see them, to claim them as her rightful gift. _Her whole body, even her brown eyes would have smiled._

Verya hadn’t looked like most elves. Whereas most had sharp features and great height, Verya had a kind, loving, round face and hair as blonde as his. She hadn’t been that tall either actually, but an excellent warrior nonetheless.

Thranduil glided inside and put the necklace on his bed. Even here it looked amazing. He felt light for a change, and able to ignore his grief. _Now is not the time to grieve. You have had a millennia to do so._ Instead, the king went back outside and picked up the agreement.

_No dwarf would have been able to near I vakha. Only I have ever-_

_No_

_Has she returned?_  Thranduil had comforted her on the battlefield, or at least tried, but had to leave to order his companies again. By the time he got back, Tauriel was gone, and so was the dwarf prince’s body. Thranduil had even gone to Balin and Dwalin, asking where she was, but they said nothing, too devastated to look away from where they had moved all of the dead dwarve’s body to. He had found it strange Tauriel was not amongst them. She needed to know that she wasn’t banished.

_I was so foolish, so arrogant. I am older than she, and acted the way one her age might: by banishing._

Although he had not forgiven her insubordination, he understood why she did it. Tauriel had never been one to excel at following the rules anyway – one of the things that made Thranduil fond of her, oddly enough. It made her fiery, and fire was something most welcome in the Mirkwood halls _. She had made Legolas happy for some time. I can at least be thankful for that, and her service as captain._

_She must know she is welcome back,_ he thought _, all would have reacted the same, and after such a loss, who am I to deny her her home?_

Looking back at his beloved’s necklace once more, he discarded the last of his dorwinion and made for the council.

 


	3. Glayfna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet! Hopefully it'll make for easier reading for followers on ff.

Meeting with the council and particularly with Narvontik had been taxing of his time. Thranduil knew the council was important, but they did like to discuss trivial matters for hours, or rather, Narvontik did. When something as large as the agreement for the dwarves comes up, the king finds himself spending a whole day in the council chambers, listening to the mousy brown haired elf address each issue, or trying to find a problem to discuss.   
_Still,_ thought Thranduil, _he is thorough, and that is precisely why he is the head of Mirkwood council._

Compromising of five females, and four males including himself, he believed the council to be helpful to the elves or Mirkwood. Thranduil himself could not see to everyone. There simply were not enough hours in the day, so unless vital, residents of Mirkwood reported to the other council members in case any issues arose.

Thankfully, when Narvontik was done with his whining, the council disjoined after agreeing that hosting a dinner of sorts for the dwarven company would show the kingdom’s acceptance and friendliness towards keeping peace.

_The survivors of Laketown will need to be invited too,_ mused the king, _then we can decide upon whether trade will still be occurring throughout the years, or if the humans wish to survive on their own._ The kingdom wouldn’t lose anything of course. Less income means nothing to the wealthy.

 

He paced to the throne room, all too aware of how quickly his good mood had vanished. Perhaps it was for the best. Being reminded of his late wife softened his thinking. He became lenient, even feeling _sorry_ for the treacherous she-elf.

_She will be found, if only to help stop and secure anyone else entering uninvited._

He sat down quickly, letting no emotion show, and called for an immediate audience with the new captain of the guard.

Three minutes later, a tall elf knocked on the throne room doors, and entered. He was a very quiet elf, but lethal if provoked.

“Captain,” Thranduil called, “I need a small party out to search for the former captain, Tauriel”

The black haired elf looked up to his king, his face emotionless, but not quite. Most would have been ignorant to the hard glint in the captain’s equally dark eyes, but not Thranduil.

“I trust,” he carried on, “that you will handle this search - not hunt - with the discretion and understanding required. Tauriel is capricious at best. Do not push her whilst she still mourns the loss of that… dwarf.”

Speaking up, the captain asked, “My lord, is there anyone in particular you wish to have in the company?”

Satisfied to have no resistance, the king answered; “take whom you will, but no more than four. If you are asked, this is a matter of confidence and not to be discussed.”

“My king.” He bowed, and took his leave.

Thranduil wasn’t sure if he could trust the new captain, Lithraeyins. He had always been a great hunter, and proved capable of teaching other elves his talents. But there was something not quite right. Being so young, the elf was a paradox unto himself; quiet and subservient, yet lacking the warmth and curiosity of most elves around his age.

Hopefully, being so quiet and observant, he would find Tauriel quickly. Then again, if the ex-captain did not want to be found, Thranduil was sure she could elude Lithraeyins.

 

* * *

 

After climbing down I vakha, and this time, experiencing no heighted emotion, Tauriel made her way back to her old home. Of course, having very little idea of where to actually go, it was a tiresome journey.

Generally following your senses helped if you were an elf, as they were _generally_ right… Except lacking any intuition, Tauriel found herself getting more frustrated, due to the amount of worry being near the King’s residence caused her.

_At least,_ she thought, _there are practically no spiders here. This whole side of the forest seems to be almost healed._ That, if nothing else made the she-elf slightly happier.

She continued wondering back down the worn path that looked as if someone had used it recently. It did make sense. The soldiers would’ve had to have used the track to find the spiders. It was common knowledge to all Mirkwood elves, going north east took would eventually take one outside of the kingdom’s borders, and towards many a beastly nesting ground.

_What made him decide to exterminate them now, after such loss?_  

So long had she pleaded with him; “We must go to the source. If we kill the main body of-

“No.” he had commanded every time without fail. The command was simple enough to understand, it wasn’t what made Tauriel indescribably furious and left her feeling useless. It was the king’s venomous tone, and the look of scorn.

How stupid he must have thought her, for suggesting such delusional ideas. How immature, he must have believed her to be, thinking it was that easy to slaughter the foul creatures. Yet, if the king had listened to her, he would’ve realised she wanted to make a plan. She and Legolas had even spoken about it.

 Clearly, being royalty, Thranduil was above listening to a Silvan elf, despite making her captain of the guard. With every ounce of loathing he threw at her, she made sure King Thranduil knew of its mutuality.

Each of the thoughts were a burden. So much had changed since then. Once it was only spiteful arguments that filled her with an unfavourable bitter taste, and now…

Now it was so much more.

As she turned ever so slightly more east, Tauriel tried to make sense of her thoughts and emotions, using the scent of close ash and spruce as well as fresh leaves to pull her back to reality when it got too harrowing.

Did she still hate her king? After what he had done on the battlefield, Tauriel was not sure. Of course, he would never be one to apologise so directly with words, but again, he was not one to comfort her, not since she was a small girl. So did he mean to be understanding? Or was it a momentary lapse of character?

And where, where to go now? What if she could never find the village of Glayfna? Would she make for Rivendell, or spend her days by Kili’s tomb?

So short had their time together been, but it had been real, and she missed him intensely. It’s just, there were only so many memories she could remember him by. It was more the way she had felt near him and the new emotion he had brought and promises they made.

Everything they had done for each other, only for it to end because of her idiocy. Notching an arrow into that vile orc would’ve prevented it all, and she could have done it, so very easily, had she not threatened the king first.

When she was still considered a child, around 90, the king had scolded her; “You must learn, Eamre’m. You are too hot headed, even for an elfling! Learn fast,” growled king thranduil, “or find your place somewhere else.”

Admittedly, she had deserved the telling off. She and Legolas had been in the first room before the king’s true chambers, waiting to hear some important news, when the king had come in so silently, Tauriel hadn’t realised he could hear their conversation:

“What did your nana look like?” She had asked, only because she was curious. She did not want to make him upset, and she didn’t. Rather Legolas looked and felt fearful, for he had seen his father enter the room when she had not. “And why does the king never speak of her? Why won’t he tell you anything? Why-“

Legolas had shouted, too late to warn, that his father was merely meters away. “Tauriel.” The elven king said, sending a literal chill down her spine, “I might remind you, that it is not your place to ask questions you have no right knowing the answer to.”

Although scared, the Thranduil had annoyed her. Surely it wasn’t that rude a question to ask? Answering truthfully, she said, “But I wasn’t wanting to know much my king, only why we’re not allowed to know about-“

That’s when he started yelling.

 

_Even when I thought I had, it wasn't true,_ she reflected, _I never learned, never, and in the end, it cost a life. A pure life, with so little only just lived._

Tauriel was in agony. No beauty of the forest could cull the pain in her chest. It felt like the entire weight of the world was living in her, choking and strangling, killing her.

Realising she had only walked a league, Tauriel slowed right down, and found a tall tree to climb, where hopefully she’d be able to collect herself and be safe from any remaining spiders.

The bark was light and cracked and beautifully accommodating. Where the branches began to twist up, reaching for sunlight, they left a secure moderately large space, in which the she-elf sat.

After some time, losing the will to hold back, she curled up, wept.

Being sure she had only started out with pondering about the king, Tauriel wondered why she was grieving so openly about her parents, as she hadn't done for years.

Would it always be like this? _When one thing is terrible, will it always lead to me feeling so awful about everything else?_

Cold and too distressed to care, Tauriel cried herself to sleep thinking about her parents, as she had done when a young and broken child.

 The dream that plagued her had been absent from Tauriel’s mind for nearly six centuries. She had almost forgotten it.

Almost.

_Twisted giant men were charging through the river which ran through Glafyna. Although early winter, the cold did not bother them, which was the first thing small eight year old Tauriel noticed. The second thing she noticed was the growling; deep, bone chilling growls of pure hatred._

_Evles, both male and female yelled to each other, forming a barricade to the oncoming attack. None were overly prepared, with only two thirds wearing armour. However, Tauriel had seen a small group of elves circling behind the twisted men. Maybe they would attack from behind?_

_Tauriel only realised what a strategic move it had been when she grew a bit older, and was able to look back at the memory with mature, calculating eyes._

_Still, in that moment, the she elleth had been terrified and frozen on the spot until her Nana appeared: “Go Tauriel, your father is at the house. He’ll tell you what to do!” Looking worried and apprehensive, the redheaded elf looked at Tauriel, who still hadn’t moved, speaking quietly, “I love you very much, lovely girl. I will find you when it’s over, I promise.”_

_With her mother’s words sinking into her, Tauriel ran to their house, where she saw her father beckoning her inside._

_“My daughter, my tinu, it’s getting dark, and more orcs will arrive. You have to leave-“_

_“Meran is staying, why can’t I ada?”_

_“Tauriel, Meran is twenty three, and although still young, he has been trained to fight. Now is not the time to argue. Just know that your mother and I love you very much. Go west, and when it gets dark, follow numen elen. She is the brightest star in the sky. You’ll arrive at the heart of Mirkwood, where the king lives.”_

_“King… Thranduil?”_

_“Yes my darling, they will look after you until nana and I find you. Go now, and don’t forget - numen elen!”_

She woke with the sound of her father’s voice echoing around her head.

 

_"Numen elen”_.

 

West star.

How she missed him. He had been right about everything, always. He had been right to tell her to leave, or she would have been dead, like the rest of the villagers. He had been right to tell her to follow numen elen too, for the forest was a tricky place to navigate when so young.

Even though she was older, Tauriel saw that she still needed guidance sometimes. Tonight, it would come from the pure light she had followed so many centuries ago.

* * *

 

Clearly he had placed the capability of Lithraeyins far above his actual skill.

Thranduil paced towards his private armory, furious. The longer that wretched elf was left, the longer the defense of Mirkwood was unstable, and with it, the people he was supposed to be protecting.

Picking up the closest sword, and discovering it was really a spear, Thranduil growled under his breath. He would take the spear with him of course, but a sword was precisely what was needed to calm him.

Luckily, the training grounds were not particularly busy. It was a clear sky tonight, so most elves were probably watching the stars, or not wasting their time training like Thranduil was.

With every hard stab the king threw at the targets with his javelin, his thoughts returned to Lithraeyins and his incompetence. The captain had been out for three days. Was it really so difficult to find an elf who was likely to be in a state of grief, therefore moving at no great speed?

_There are only so many routes she could travel!_ Throwing the spear once more, and shattering the target, Thranduil looked at what his anger had achieved _._ Honestly, he was quite impressed. It took a lot for him to get truly angry, a talent Tauriel had succeeded at in no short comings, yet it really had been near seven hundred years since he had been furious enough to literally shatter a target.

_Time for my sword,_ he supposed.

His movements were less violent now, as he needed to allow control enough to make a plan in his head.

Now, there was a way into Mirkwood city that Thranduil previously believed he and Legolas only knew about. It was a passage on the other side of the waterfall which the river supplying Mirkwood’s water sprayed down. It wasn’t immediately obvious, but there was a small passage, after one climbed around the height of a large oak tree, which could fit the small and agile. Thranduil had never bothered to seal it, simply because Legolas had enjoyed it so when he was a child.

Often Legolas would climb and explore the tunnel, and meet the king back in the caverns underneath the living rock Mirkwood was built near and on. It is entirely possible Tauriel discovered the passage, but would she truly be able to fit through?

After journeying down to the waterfall, Thranduil had looked closely at the passage. It was a dangerous climb to make when alone, but the king had always been there to make sure his son was safe if he fell. If Tauriel had slipped, she would definitely have hurt herself. The thought made Thranduil uneasy. She had been delivering to him, that he knew, and if she was hurt, it would be because of him.   
Another elf in pain and danger because of him.

Eventually, when he was finished sparring with a lifeless opponent, Thranduil decided that if Lithraeyins could not find Tauriel, it is likely no one would be able to. No one, except perhaps, him. As far as the king knew, Lithraeyins had never experienced loss. Tauriel’s mind was no doubt in turmoil, meaning her travelling decisions would be erratic, and not very strategic.

_But I can understand,_ he thought, _as I have been there myself. When tragedy strikes, all one wants is to feel better or stop feeling at all, so that’s what she’ll be searching for. A place comfortable enough to heal in that feels safe and secure whilst she grieves and recovers from her losses._

The next morning, at the break of day, King Thranduil and two guards set off to find the elusive she elf. The king was certain she’d be in one of two places. Luckily, they were both on the same route. He hoped this time, if Tauriel wasn’t in the first location, the dwarves would be more helpful with sharing their information.

Perhaps the only issue was leaving Narvontik in charge of the kingdom. Of course, he was to make no rash decisions, just make sure everything was okay whilst the king left.

_I’ll be gone for two days at most_ , he thought, _and Narvontik is more than capable of sorting through any small issues that may arise._

_I just hope our guests don’t arrive early…_

For good measure, the king took the parchment with his signature. All supplies needed for the journey were strapped to a spare horse. He was, in Thranduil’s mind, a lovely horse, best for carrying supplies due to his heavyset stature. However, the only thing he was carrying today was a few pouches of water and medicines. Otherwise, the king knew the horse, Roan, was accompanying his party for a different reason.

A day and a half’s travel later, the small party arrived at a river crossing. He called to his two guards that were already beginning to cross the river.

“Guards! You must wait here. I won’t be long, and if I’m not back by sundown, you have permission to come and find m-

“My king!” the tallest of the guards interrupted, “surel-

That was all it took. Thranduil hissed the guard’s name, “Do you think it is your place to question _my_ authority young elf?!” His eyes narrowed as he continued to berate the elf, “We are here on very serious business, but if you feel my decisions are below your standards and expectations, feel free to leave my halls, and Mirkwood itself.”

The young brown haired elf shook a little, and looked down, “My lord” he replied solemnly, “I am deeply sorry, I was just worried for your safety, in case anything should go wrong. I- I apologise”

Breathing deeply Thranduil dismounted his horse and strapped a small dagger up his sleeve. He wore thick brown trousers that clung to his skin, and a tight, lightly embroiled green tunic. Underneath was a matching brown shirt, giving enough room to store said dagger.

“Hopefully, if all goes to plan I will be back in an hour, maybe two. If I am anything more than two hours, come and find me, but remain here safely beforehand. Maybe you could use the time to evaluate the correct ways in which to address your king.”

Both elves looked down to the ground at Thranduil’s frank command, and mumbled, “Yes my lord”.

 

With that, the king was gone, running through the river, then thick vegetation. He ran quietly, trying to supress any aggressive actions. Since when had young elflings, merely one thousand in age, started to interrupt him? Admittedly, he had been too soft on Tauriel. It seemed like she felt it her right to argue with him, on a regular basis, and Thranduil had allowed it, simply because it had been refreshing and different. But his guards? No, interrupting was not their place at all.

As Thranduil continued to run, silver hair fluttering behind him, he considered the possibility that perhaps, the guard had actually been concerned for him. This only made him more irritated. His temper had always been quick to ignite, but it had gotten so much worse recently. Deciding to focus on anything but his own thoughts, the king looked around. He ran fast, and could see the trees and vegetation thinning. Soon he would be in the clearing, near the river.

Not five minutes later, Thranduil had slowed to a walk, careful to remain silent. He watched from behind the sparse vegetation, for any sign of Tauriel. The village looked the same as when he last saw it; houses and wood burnt to the ground, arrows and shafts littering the floor, and weapons dropped to the ground when an elf or orc fell. The only thing missing was the bodies. The Mirkwood elves had held a funeral of sorts, honouring the elven bodies, and laying them out before starlight at the highest peak of their village, before burying them, to become a part of the forest. They burnt the orc bodies and left them, for age and weather to take away. Time had done a fine job. All remains of such wretched filth had been washed elsewhere.

Thranduil waited for seven long minutes, before, as luck would have it, a redheaded elf appeared. She was carrying a pouch, and bent down next to the river to gather some water. Her features were suppressed, but the king could make out an underlying grief and tiredness. Despite losing her temper at Thranduil a few times in the past centuries, Tauriel had always done well at hiding her emotions, even from herself.

Forty five minutes later, king Thranduil was back with his two guards, and mounting his horse and taking the reins of Roan. The guards started to do the same, when the king held his hand up, “go east from here, and take the route to Erebor.”

Thranduil handed the parchment to his guards and instructed them to deliver it to Balin, and to get the dwarves reply. He was pleased when his two guards did as they were told, and left straight after his command, with no questions asked.

It took a little longer to reach the village of Glayfna with two horses, but Thranduil arrived within good time still, and dismounted. Tauriel was nowhere to be seen, but he knew she would not have sensed him. He could stay undiscovered if he wanted. The horses stayed obediently next to the trees as Thranduil left them, and began his search.

He remembered what Tauriel had said when he first found her. On the second day, she had spoken about a house near the “really really big oaken tree”, so he knew vaguely where to search. Luckily, it was now dark, and he could use that to his advantage.

It didn’t take long to find the oaken tree, as the village was a small one. It seemed to be the only thing undamaged by the orc attack. Next to it sat a house, with two smashed windows, and a small light coming from the higher level. He knocked on the door, and called her name.

* * *

She gasped, clamping her hands to her mouth to stop her yell of shock. Someone had just called her name, it wasn’t her imagination, and she sure wasn’t dreaming this time.  She blew out the candle she had found, and grabbed the nearest weapon: her bow and arrow. The floorboards croaked as she stepped, as they had done when she was little. She had forgotten about that, and it made her heartache a few days ago when she remembered once more. Deciding stepping through the house would just help the intruder to know where she was, she jumped out the far window, silently, clung to the branches and balanced herself.

Her king was there at the bottom, waiting for her.

She evaluated him, and saw no weapons. Still, she decided it would be safest to wait for him to speak, after all, their last meet had been a strange confusing one. Tauriel tried to keep her breathing even.

_Show no fear. Show nothing, Tauriel. But..._ a quiet voice persisted, _he knows what you did Tauriel, he knows you broke in to his gardens._

“You were always excellent at hiding your true feelings Tauriel,” the king began, “but you’re out of practice lately. I know it was you who brought the agreement from the dwarves-

“I didn’t mean to break in, it was-“Tauriel was truly panicking now. The king had every right to hate her. She had disobeyed him, pointed an arrow into his face, and broken into his private gardens. “I’m, ah sorry it-“

“What is it with young elves interrupting me today?!” Thranduil suddenly raised his voice over her. “If you would care to listen, I was going to say that I should not have banished you so quickly, but that is not why I’m here.” Thranduil’s eyes had gone from fire to ice, in less than a second, and Tauriel knew it was not wise to interrupt again. “I need to know how you delivered the agreement, which route you picked, and guards you got past, and how to fix this. We are in need of more protection now our numbers have fallen from the battle.”

Tauriel said nothing, and just looked at the king, who raised a dignified eyebrow in response. Had he actually just said he was in the wrong? King Thranduil was never in the wrong, a lesson that had been subtly drilled into Tauriel from a young age.

Still, Tauriel said nothing, and watched her king sigh in agitation ever so slightly. “Honestly” he seemed to mutter.

“As your king, I command you to come back to my halls and show me how and where you got in. we cannot afford any security oversights.”

Tauriel nodded meekly, finally finding her voice, “Yes my lord,” and climbed gracefully down the tree to join her king. She hadn’t seen him look so informal before, and couldn’t decide if she liked it, not that it was her place to make a judgment. Instead, she turned her sight back to her old home, and thought about all her memories of the place and how oddly bittersweet her visit had been.

“Before I forget,” King Thranduil started again, “I have brought Roan with me, for you to ride back, and if you remember he is rather heavyset. This would allow you to bring back any artefacts or heirlooms you may have found during your stay here.”

Looking up at her king, who looked so magnificent in the moonlight, the she-elf let out a surprised, but quiet gasp. “Thank you, my lord.”


End file.
